Ketamine
by hoar
Summary: The absence of pain does not preclude trauma.
1. Chapter 1

She woke up to the stridulation of crickets.

As she raised her arms to rub dried mucopurulent discharge that crusted in her eyes, she sensed something preventing her from abducting her wrists from each other. She could flex and extend her knees without any difficulty. It took her a few moments to notice that her hands were bound to each other by the wrists.

As she scanned her immediate surroundings, she noticed moonlight pouring from the window to her right. The dim illumination rendered a stack of unlabelled boxes visible, along with outlines of some articles of furniture, but not much else. The soft sensation against her back when she woke up led her to infer that she was inside a bedroom of sorts.

Standing up with as little noise as she could make, she suddenly felt as though an electric current surged through both of her legs. She quickly sat back down, trying to remember how she wound up in her current situation. Her mind drew blanks as she attempted to reconstruct the events following an upper gastrointestinal endoscopy she performed on a patient referred to her from the emergency room.

The more she strained herself to recall where she went after leaving the hospital, the left side of her forehead became increasingly painful. Thinking about the hazy figures that started to manifest in her memory exacerbated the discomfort she was feeling. Like a bolt of lightning, she called out, "Hello?", into the opposite end of the dark room she occupied.

The only response she received was the mewl of a cat.

Struggling to keep herself calm, she took to making a few deep breaths, laying back down on the bed.

"1..."

A faint trickle and the whirring noise of a moving engine were audible.

"2..."

A few drops of rain on the window gave the illusion of sparkles.

"3..."

The sound of footsteps and indistinct chatter in steady crescendo predominated her senses.

"4..."

Keys clanking as the footsteps come to a halt, someone must be fiddling with a knob. She knew she had to stay quiet and lay still, as a niggling feeling started to grow into fear. Closing her eyes before she can internally count to 5, she heard a creaking noise come from her left side. As footfall resumed, murmuring turned into two different voices.

"Are you sure this is him?"

"He certainly looks the part."

"What do you mean, 'looks the part'? I told you to bring him to me!"

"Not much I can work with from the grainy phone camera photo that you sent. I took him from the hospital where you saw him. Know if he has any siblings?"

"'Him'? What on earth are these two talking about?", she thought as she heard the flick of a switch. Hoping that she did not appear visibly jolted by the sound, she kept her charade.

"It does look like him."

She looks nothing like a man, she thought to herself. How could they say that she looked like whoever they're after?

"'It'? Have a little more respect. He's a person too, you know?"

"You're telling me to treat that guy as a human being? He's a criminal responsible for the deaths of many innocent people. I'm just going to give him his just desserts."

Could they be talking about... him? If they are, exactly what do they want to do with him?


	2. Chapter 2

She wanted to do something to put some sense into the two men who were conversing inside the room, but she refused to open her eyes, or even stir, for they would realise that she wasn't sleeping the entire time.

"I would expect more compassion from you, Boss.", sheepishly said one of the men.

"In this trade, there is no room neither mercy, nor compassion.", replied the other.

She heard a snick - possibly from a lighter - its source confirmed by the unmistakable odour of cigarette smoke. One of the men let out a deep sigh. Her awareness of her own breathing was growing, as she did her best not to swat the undesirable stench away. She would have a few, stern words with whoever lit the cigarette, glossing over the negative effects of such a habit, before snatching the cigarette away.

"Tie him up and take him to the basement. I'll be waiting.", the one named "Boss" remarked.

Footsteps in decrescendo were audible. A faint grunt from close by was concomitantly heard with the loud noise produced by impact of the door against its frame. The few moments of silence that followed produced great anxiety and distress in her, exacerbated by a creeping sensation of her blanket being pulled down gently. Immediately following a gentle nudge at one of her thighs, she felt something slip under both of her knees as what seemed to be a hand gently rested against her back.

As she was lifted up - probably by man who was left behind in the room with her - she thought of what awaited her in the basement. A chamber replete with an electric chair, a guillotine, ropes, and other implements intended for torture? A clandestine prison with a cell tailor made to punish persons charged with grave crimes against humanity? Worse, what if it was her father who orchestrated her abduction, in order to forcibly send her back home?

Now was not the time to lose her guard; it's a wonder she could dupe the man into believing that she was still slumbering soundly.

"I know you're not sleeping. Wake up.", the man urged her as she could sense their descent down a flight of stairs. She remained unresponsive - if she can keep the ruse up for much longer, he might not persist in waking her up. Gravity seemed to centre caudally, as it was apparent that the person lifting her up almost lost his balance. The odour of fragrant incense wafted its way to her nose, conferring a sense of comfort to her. Soon after, the only movement she could sense from her captor were fine tremors on both of his hands.

It seemed as though she were set on a lower platform, until fluid came in contact with her feet. The arms that kept her suspended from the ground were releasing her as the rest of her back felt damp and cold. Feigning indifference, she slowly opened her eyes to a dimly-lit incandescent bulb hovering overhead, and directed her gaze to her feet. It quickly became apparent to her that she was laid on a bathtub.

"Where am I?", she enquired, scanning the room for any trace of her abductor. Lit candles and sticks of incense surrounded the bathtub she was resting on, but there was nothing and no one else to be seen. A subtle, rectangular patch of light slowly came to life, revealing itself to be the projection of a blue screen with text reading "No Signal" at the centre.

The water in the bathtub seemed warmer than it was earlier. Perhaps she was acclimatising to it, and the temperature of her skin was reaching equilibrium with its surroundings.


End file.
